And the World Was Gone
by thewrinkleintime
Summary: Derek's starting to think that his feelings for Stiles might never go away.


Derek's been in love with Stiles for months now, but didn't think keeping silent would be this hard. He's good at silence, knows how to navigate the stillness of quiet, even when it's uncomfortable. But this is wearing him down.

Stiles shows up the Saturday before he's supposed to leave for college, looking anxious and edible. Derek has given up on trying not to think these things. There's a moment of nothing, where Stiles and Derek simply stare at each other, and then Stiles is walking towards Derek, looking determined, if a little scared. Derek lets himself be pushed back against the wall, let's himself be kissed. It's a bit sloppy, but it's slow and sweet and everything Derek didn't expect. He runs his hands over Stiles back and pulls away.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"Kissing you, or at least I was."

"But-" Derek starts to protest.

"If you don't want this we can go and watch a movie and forget it happened. If you do want this, then start taking off your clothes." Stiles leans close, mouth brushing against Derek's ear. "I want you to fuck me."

Derek surges forward, spins them around and pins Stiles' hands above his head.

"Are you sure you want that?"

Stiles licks his lips and breathes out, "I'm sure."

* * *

It's not like Derek had imagined. He thought fucking Stiles would be rough, all hard movements and intense feeling. It's not like that though, it's slower, gentler. He takes his time opening up Stiles, figuring out the best angles and the perfect speed to move his fingers in and out. Stiles whines and tells him to go faster, but this may be the only chance Derek has to do this, and he wants to savor it. When he finally pushes in-Stiles on his back, legs thrown over Derek's shoulders-he sighs. He lets Stiles get used to the intrusion for a minute before he starts moving-long, slow thrusts that leave them both breathless. Stiles is gripping the headboard for purchase, and he's bucking into each push, making sounds that Derek never wants to forget.

They're staring at each other, have been the whole time, and it's intimate-too intimate. He feels like Stiles knows, knows everything Derek has ever said or done or thought about doing. Like he knows what Derek thinks about at night. Like he knows that Derek thinks about what it would be like, to be with him. Like he knows that Derek loves him. But Derek can't stand being that open, that vulnerable. So he leans forward and kisses Stiles, closing his eyes and trying to map out every inch of Stiles' mouth. There's nothing he doesn't want to taste, no part of Stiles that he doesn't want to touch. (Even the darkness he wants.)

They're not so much kissing as breathing together when Stiles comes, making a half-choked out groan and clenching around Derek. Derek fucks him through it, keeping his strokes slow and hard, until it's too much and he comes without a sound, face contorting in pleasure, muscles taught.

Derek pulls out slowly, collapses next to Stiles and stares up at the ceiling.

He's fucked out and pleasantly tired, but his mood drops as he watches Stiles wipe the come off his stomach and pull on his clothes. Stiles is straightening his shirt, not looking at Derek, when he says "I guess I'll see you at fall break."

Derek rolls over and breathes in the smell of them, even as his stomach twists at the sound of the door closing behind Stiles.

He didn't count on this hurting so much.

* * *

The next time Derek sees Stiles it's October. The leaves have changed and the air is slightly cooler, but Derek's feelings are the same. He still thinks about Stiles too much, thinks about everything he wants to do with him, and the burn hasn't subsided.

* * *

Derek is just starting to think he's over Stiles when Stiles shows up at his apartment on a Thursday in June. There's no talk, just kissing, and Stiles tastes faintly of alcohol. Not so much that Derek thinks his judgment is impaired, but enough that Stiles seems looser, less tense.

It's rushed, this time, rougher. Stiles is on his stomach, knees bent and legs spread as far they will go. There's no eye contact this way, and less chance of Derek accidentally spilling his heart. He's having a hard enough time keeping it contained as it is, fucking Stiles face to face would only make it harder.

Derek preps him quickly, stretching him with two fingers until Stiles says "I'm ready, just do it already."

Derek grips Stiles' hips, hard enough that there will probably be bruises, as he drives Stiles into the mattress.

It's over relatively fast, and Derek is left feeling unsettled and on-edge. He thinks allowing this to happen again was probably a mistake, but he can't say that out loud so he just kisses Stiles as they come down from their high, keeps kissing him until Stiles pokes his shoulder and says that he needs to get home.

* * *

In his junior year Stiles gets a serious boyfriend, and the visits to Derek's apartment stop.

Derek tries not to let this bother him, tries to focus on his own life. He's gone back to school himself, pursuing an art degree and working on the side. He's made some friends, has kept the pack together for the most part, and should have moved on. But Derek's starting to think that his feelings for Stiles might never go away, and he doesn't know how to deal with that.

* * *

Stiles is once again at Derek's door.

He's 22, recently graduated college, and living in Beacon Hills while he figure out what he wants to do next. Stiles has grown into himself, is more confident and more collected. He's not the same person Derek fell in love with, but that doesn't stop Derek from loving him all the same.

Derek lets him in.

"Can we talk?"

Derek tries not to jump to any conclusions, but it's hard when Stiles looks like someone died. They sit on the couch and Derek tries to resist the urge to move closer.

"I broke up with Nate last week," Stiles says.

"What happened?"

Stiles hesitates.

"You don't have to say, it's not my place." Derek adds, thinking he made Stiles uncomfortable.

"No, it's just..." Stiles runs a hand over his face before looking up and meeting Derek's eyes.

"I'm in love with someone else."

"Oh," Is all he manages to say. He feels like someone has stabbed him in the abdomen and is slowly twisting the knife. It hurts more than actually being stabbed ever did and Derek must not be very good at hiding his emotions, because Stiles gives him this exasperated look and sighs.

"Stop looking like that. It's you, you idiot. I'm in love with you."

Derek doesn't say anything for a while, trying to process this new information.

"How long?"

"Too long not to have told you."

Derek gets up, moves with inhuman speed and seats himself in Stiles' lap. They kiss and it's perfect, it's everything Derek wanted and more. He feels like a weight has been lifted, like he doesn't have to keep his emotions in check anymore, like he can spill his heart and it will be okay. He tells Stiles that he loves him too, grins against Stiles' mouth as he says it.

Derek grinds down again, keeps at it until they're both hard and starting to ache. "I want you to fuck me," he whispers in Stiles' ear, reminiscent of the first time they had sex, only this is better, more honest, more real.

* * *

Stiles is fucking into Derek with his tongue, each thrust full of intent. Derek has his face buried in his arms, trying-and failing-to muffle a moan. Stiles is planning on taking him completely apart, had said as much before he flipped Derek over and started placing wet, open mouthed kisses down his back.

When Stiles adds a finger, crooking just right, Derek honest to god whimpers.

By the time Stiles has three fingers in him Derek is begging.

"Just fuck me already. I swear to god Stiles-" And then Stiles is flipping him back over, lifting his legs and pushing in, and Derek is left without words. (Stiles often leaves him that way.)

Stiles pulls out slightly and gives a few shallow thrusts before Derek growls and orders Stiles to fuck him harder.

"I'm not going to break."

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's thighs, sits back on his heels, and attempts to test Derek's statement.

It's not very long before he feels himself approaching the edge.

"Stiles," The name is pulled from him, unbidden and half-masked by a moan.

"I've got you," Stiles murmurs as he wraps a hand around Derek's cock, and that's all it takes. Derek's spine arches with pleasure and his muscles clench as he comes.

He must have blacked out for a moment because the next thing he knows Stiles is pulling out and flopping down on the bed beside him. Derek closes his eyes and revels in the after-glow. That had been a first for him, he'd never given himself over completely before, but he's glad he did.

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek and it's so unlike the previous times that it takes Derek a few seconds to get on board. But then he slings an arm over Stiles and pulls him close, thinking how nice it is to just be.

* * *

Derek wakes up the next morning and finds Stiles still there, awake and staring back at him.

"I'm not leaving, not this time. You're stuck with me."

"That is 100% acceptable," Derek says, sliding closer and kissing Stiles lightly.

Later they'll have a serious conversation, about their past and what they want for the future. Buried things will be dug up, and old scars will hurt. But right now, right now they're alright. They're together, and neither one plans on leaving.

(Things will collapse and burn and get knocked down. Things will crash and smolder but they'll rise from it stronger and more united. And they'll each leave, more than once. But they'll always come back, come back to each other, come back to what they've built. Together. Together.)


End file.
